


First Dance

by SoDoRoses (FairyChess)



Series: LAOFT Extras [52]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Altered States, Dancing, Enthusiastic Consent, Faerie Dancing, Implied/Reference Sexual Content, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Assault, Sexual Undertones, Trances, consensual hypnosis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-12
Updated: 2019-08-12
Packaged: 2020-08-20 00:17:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20218675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FairyChess/pseuds/SoDoRoses
Summary: “I don’t want to hide. I want to slow dance with you again. I want to dance with you forever.”― Sarah Black, Border Roads





	First Dance

**Author's Note:**

> From this prompt from a nonnie on tumblr:
> 
> "I don’t know how prompts or asks work for Love and Other fairytales but I was wondering if Logan or Virgil ever tries to dance with Roman? Or Logan with Patton again. Or just the cuteness of Virgil and Patton dancing for the first time in privacy ☺️ oh! Or group dance and Virgil helps Logan control it! Cute ideas in my head, sorry, just spammed your universe and I’m in love. Haven’t gone through all the asks yet though so idk if this has been addressed 😅 Sorry!"
> 
> i didnt manage to fit Virgil and PAtton's first dance into this, but i will be posting it later in another oneshot!
> 
> Take place about three years after the main sotryline, and pretty much immediately follows _Serendipity_

Logan took to wedding planning with the kind of fervor only someone with a deep love of binders can manage. Patton had an equal amount of enthusiasm, if not quite as many organizational skills, and Roman was more than happy to give input on the cosmetic details and let Logan checklist to his heart’s content.

But first they had to figure out what even went on a checklist for a wedding so multicultural it technically qualified as _interspecies._

“Wedding party?” said Logan, frowning, reading off one of the lists, “It obviously has the potential to get very out of hand, there being four of us,”

“Of course we’re doing a wedding party,” scoffed Roman, “If we deprive Thomas of being your Best Man we won’t _live_ to the wedding,”

Logan bit the inside of his cheek, clearly trying to stop himself from grinning.

“A fair point. How many?”

“And I now understand what you meant by out of hand,” said Roman, “Two each and that’s a wedding party of eight, not even counting _us,”_

“Yikes,” said Virgil, wincing.

“We will come back to it,” said Logan, “Seeing as this is obviously illegal by human standards and fae weddings do not require an officiant, are we going to bother? The human guests will be expecting one but I do not see the point, frankly,”

“One less person to interact with,” muttered Virgil, and Patton and Roman nodded along obligingly.

Logan scratched something out with his pen.

“Can we scrap the human vows then, too? The fey ones are so much better anyway, and when I try to write out both or combine them it gets _tediously_ long,” said Roman.

“I do not mind. Patton, Virgil?”

“Sounds good to me!

“Sure.”

Logan made another scratch on the list.

He opened his mouth again, still looking at the list, and paused.

Then he scratched something out quickly, and continued.

“A guest list is equally likely to get out of hand-”

“Wait, wait,” said Roman, “What did you just cross out?”

“Nothing of desperate importance,” said Logan immediately.

“Logan, you can’t just veto-”

“I didn’t _veto_ it, it is merely an impossibility,” said Logan sharply.

“Well, maybe we can dumb it down a bit,” said Patton, “Doesn’t gotta be _exact-”_

“I crossed off the first dance,” Logan snapped.

Dead silence met his words – like all the air had been sucked out of the room. Roman felt like his heart had done a nauseating flip and landed right in his throat.

Logan took a deep steadying breath. He turned back to the binder.

“Guest list?” he prompted, “Virgil you are a political figure. Is there a custom to invite high-ranking gentry to a wedding?”

“… No,” said Virgil, and life started to come back to the room, “And even if there was I wouldn’t,”

The conversation continued, going down the list. Roman contributed his opinions.

But only on autopilot. His mind was far away, in a gilded cage.

Over the next week, Roman kept coming back to it in his mind.

It wasn’t like dancing with Dee had been a nightmare. If it had, Roman thought maybe he’d actually have an easier time of it. If he’d been rough, or cruel, it would be easy to look at Virgil and Logan and draw no parallels.

But Dee had always asked to dance. And Roman had always said yes. He’d _said yes_.

Did it make a difference if he’d never once thought he was _allowed_ to say no?

And sometimes they’d only danced and that had been fine. But sometimes Roman had woken from the trance to find himself covered in bruises and mussed in embarrassing ways and being showered in compliments of how good and beautiful and perfect he’d been and how was Roman supposed to respond or to that or complain when the evidence, in the bruises littering Dee’s neck, that Roman had definitely been _participating_ were staring back at him?

Virgil was embroidering, and he’d focused so intently on it that Roman wasn’t sure he knew Roman was standing in the doorway, or just how embarrassingly long he’d been doing so. Virgil was focused entirely on the pattern in front of him, the little bone needle picking through the fabric.

Years ago, when they’d been barely together a few months, Virgil had asked Roman to dance. Roman’s stomach had hit his feet, and the automatic yes, a yes he wouldn’t have meant, had been on the tip of his tongue.

But Roman had told Virgil “no” before, and Virgil had always listened. He’d never tried to reach for anything he didn’t think Roman would hold out freely. None of them had.

Roman had said “no.” Years later, and still, Virgil had never asked again.

These days, when Roman thought of bruises on his neck, it didn’t hurt. When he thought of hands on his skin it was always falling-snow-soft Virgil or Logan like a spring rain or Patton, warm and sweet like fresh cookies. Not ice. Not scales. Not pain.

Roman looked at Virgil, and he thought of dancing, and he was not scared.

He entered the room, and Virgil startled. He looked up at Roman, curious, and then wary when he saw Roman’s expression.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Roman replied honestly, “Could you-?”

He gestured to the stitching, and Virgil set it to the side.

Roman held out one hand, and Virgil took it automatically, still watching Roman with just a bit of trepidation.

“Virgil,” Roman said quietly, “Will you dance with me?”

Virgil went rigid immediately. He didn’t answer for a very long moment, and Roman waited patiently.

“Roman…” said Virgil softly, “I- the tradition isn’t that important. You don’t have to force yourself to do something you’re not comfortable with,”

“I know,” said Roman.

“_Roman,_”

“_I know_,” said Roman, firm. “I know. And I know I’m not the only one with hang-ups about this in this relationship. I don’t care if we dance at the wedding. Doesn’t matter,”

He pulled gently, and Virgil stood, close enough that Roman could feel his cool breath fanning over Roman’s lips, and Roman only wanted him to get closer.

“I want to dance with you _now_,” he said, “Because you are my fiance who I love very much, and I want to be close to you, and I trust you,”

Virgil made a soft, weak noise in the back of his throat, and his breath shook on the exhale. Roman waited.

“Boundaries,” said Virgil, “What’s okay to do?”

“I know you won’t do anything I don’t-”

“I _need_-”

Virgil’s hand was outright quivering now, and he lifted their joined hands to press Roman’s fingers to his mouth.

“I _need_ exact words, beloved,” he croaked, “I can’t- I can’t handle not knowing _exactly_ what’s okay and what’s not,”

Roman considered. Virgil hadn’t dropped their hands, and now he had Roman’s pressed to his cheek.

“Hands above the waist,” said Roman finally, “But under my shirt is fine. You can kiss me,”

He paused, thinking it over further.

“Church tongue only,” he said, smiling, and Virgil snorted. The tension broke, if only a little.

“Now- will you?” said Roman, “Dance with me?”

After another long pause, Virgil opened his arms.

He kept their hands clasped, wrapping his arm around Roman’s waist. Roman laid his along Virgil’s bicep and set his head on Virgil’s shoulder.

“Are you sure?” said Virgil thickly.

“So sure,” said Roman. “Enthusiastically consenting here,”

Virgil nodded, and Roman felt it where Virgil had rested his cheek on Roman’s head. He gripped Roman hand a little tighter, and they started to turn.

It wasn’t anything like Roman remembered.

He didn’t go delirious – he didn’t lose any awareness at all for that matter. He barely felt different at all.

It was more like someone had… filled the little empty spaces and nooks and crannies of his head, but instead of feeling overcrowded it was like they’d been padded with silk. Cool and rippling against all the edges of him, soothing and soft. Pillow down and satin and fresh snow.

Virgil. It just… it just felt like Virgil.

Roman sighed, relaxing into Virgil’s chest. Virgil was carrying a little more of his weight than would be strictly polite if he was human, but Virgil was strong enough Roman didn’t feel bad about it. He wasn’t sure if he _could_ feel bad about it right now, when all the sharp corners of the world had gone soft, every frightening or threatening thing far away and with _Virgil_ between them anyway.

Who could possibly hurt him here?

“I love you,” he mumbled.

“I love you, too,” said Virgil, soft but still just a pinch nervous, “How do you feel?”

Roman ran a thought along one of the satin edges, humming in contentment.

“Safe,” he said, “Nice. Love you a lot,”

Virgil relaxed by a degree.

“Kiss me?” said Roman.

Virgil hesitated.

“Please?”

Virgil let out another slow breath, before he leaned down and caught Roman’s mouth in just about the softest kiss Roman had ever experienced.

It was hardly more than a press of lips, barely open-mouthed and gentle. Roman flicked his tongue against Virgil’s lips, but Virgil didn’t take the bait, just shifted the angle and kept kissing Roman in that quiet, unobtrusive way. At some point their clasped hands had come down to rest on Virgil’s chest, and he ran his thumb over Roman’s knuckles.

And then Roman ruined it by starting to cry.

Virgil immediately let go of his hand, and the circle broke. Roman blinked up at him – the lightened feeling was gone, and Roman’s memory was intact. He remembered that last five minutes with perfect clarity, which he, admittedly, had not been expected.

“I’m sorry,” said Virgil immediately, his hands with a death grip on the edge of his hoodie, “I don’t know what it was, but I won’t do it again, I knew I shouldn’t have kissed you-”

Roman surged forward, so quickly he startled Virgil into sitting on the couch. Roman didn’t waste a second, climbing into Virgil’s lap and burying his fingers in the black locks on the back of his head, kissing the words right out of Virgil’s mouth.

“I-” Virgil tried to speak, but Roman took advantage of it to lick into his mouth with a nearly obscene moan, and Virgil’s words turned garbled and soft and pleased and he sounded so _good-_

With one last searing kiss, Roman pulled back a little. Virgil’s hair was mussed, and his irises were a needlepoint-thin ring of stunning purple against the black of his pupils, his lips bruised pink. He frowned, reaching up and swiping a tear off Roman’s still slightly wet face.

“I _hurt_ you,” he croaked, sounding absolutely wretched.

“You didn’t,” said Roman breathlessly, “Oh, V, you didn’t hurt me at all. You were _perfect_, you- you _are_ perfect, oh, I _love _you-”

“You’re crying,”

“Happy tears. Relieved tears,” Roman grinned shaking his head, “Tears just because all my emotions had to leak out somewhere because there wasn’t enough room-”

“That’s not how that works, I think,”

“You don’t know how the human body works, you’re not a doctor and you don’t even have one,” teased Roman.

Virgil finally cracked a smile.

“You’re really okay?” he asked.

Roman leaned in so their mouths were so close Virgil probably felt the words more than he heard them.

“I promise you didn’t hurt me,” he said, and he barely got the words out before Virgil pulled him back into another fierce, dazzling kiss.

* * *

“I can’t,” said Logan, his voice cracking, “I know you remember what I did to them in the clearing,”

“I do,” said Virgil, his heart clenching, “You were young, and you didn’t know what you were doing,”

“A state that has changed little, if at all,” said Logan, “The risks outweigh the benefits significantly. Roman may be able to dance with you without becoming triggered, but you _do_ know what you are doing, and if I hurt him-”

“Which is why Roman and Patton aren’t here,” said Virgil, “You couldn’t put me under if you were _actively trying,_ L,”

“They can dance with _you_ if they want to dance with a fae,” Logan snapped.

“But do you _want_ to dance with them?”

Logan scowled.

They’d all seen it. The way Logan watched with barely-contained longing when Roman and Patton spun each other in circles, at revels and parties and once in the kitchen of the Sanders’ house until he’d outright left the room.

“It is, to quote Roman, an_ asshole_ move to ask me a yes or no question,” said Logan bitterly, which was as good as an answer.

“We all want the same thing,” said Virgil, “And I won’t force you, of course. But I’m willing to try if you are,”

Logan didn’t move or speak for almost a full minute, and Virgil waited, refusing to press him.

Logan stood up, crossing the room and standing in front of Virgil like he was facing a firing squad.

He held out his hand.

Virgil took it, and then reach for Logan’s other hand. I would be easiest to help control it if they were doing an actual circle.

“Ready?”

“As I will ever be, I suppose,” said Logan, voice shaking.

Virgil squeezed his hands, and they began to turn.

Virgil’s senses exploded immediately, the smell of blooming flowers and pollen in his nose so strong he nearly flinched. Christmas roses were by far the most overwhelming, and Virgil took a deep breath of fresh air to try and clear the phantom scent out of his nose.

“Okay,” he said, “First off – you’re _way_ too nervous. It’s just about all I’m getting, is fear. Which is impressive, because I’m basically made of it,”

Logan scowled at him.

“Try- try not to think about how you’re feeling right now,” said Virgil, “Try to think about how you want _me_ to feel,”

He paused.

“And… maybe come a little closer,” he said, “You have less control the further away you hold you partner.

“I do not _want_ to control you,” said Logan brokenly.

“Not me, L,” said Virgil gently, “The dance,”

Logan hesitated, but he did step closer. The smell returned, still overpowering but some other flower now, one Virgil wasn’t sure he could identify.

“Focus,” he said quietly.

Logan closed his eyes, his brow furrowed in concentration. Virgil pressed their foreheads together, and Logan’s magic briefly flared sunlight-warm and heady with the smell of roses, powerful enough Virgil’s head actually spun for the barest moment.

“Easy,” he murmured, “Like the sunbeams,”

Logan had spent weeks shattering sunbeams every time he tried to manipulate them. He’d tried to explain the issue to Virgil but it had mostly gone directly over the Unseelie’s head – but he had at least gathered that the sunbeams were difficult to get ahold of but also incredibly delicate. It made grabbing them out of the air a frustrating experience for Logan, but he had eventually figured it out.

The smell backed down, gentling. Still powerful, but now more soothing than cloying.

“Try- pressing,” said Virgil, “I don’t know how to explain it, it’s – you’re just around me, like this. Press in but don’t shove,”

“Would it not be better to leave it at the surface?” said Logan warily.

Virgil shook his head.

“You want it spread out evenly, distributed throughout the whole dance, not concentrated in only a few spots. Like… Damn it,”

He tried to think of a metaphor Logan would understand.

“Like rain,” he said, “If it fell all at once, like a bucket, it’d be miserable, right? It would hurt people. So- a little at a time, and spread out, it’s better. Nice,”

Logan seemed to turn this over in his mind.

“Alright,” he said.

He pulled a little on Virgil’s hands, and they began to move again.

The edges of the magic softened – it sank into Virgil skin, and he couldn’t help that his eyes fluttered slightly. Logan had taken the rain metaphor better than any other direction Virgil had given him; Virgil smelled petrichor and wet earth and felt damp grass along his skin. He opened his mouth and tasted fresh honeysuckle on the inhale.

“Oh,” he said, a little breathless.

“Am I- is it-?”

“Very good,” said Virgil, blinking his eyes open. Logan was looking up at him, worried and hopeful and Virgil smiled down at him, “Should’ve figured you’d be a natural,”

“Why?” said Logan incredulously.

“Dancing for traps or… to hurt people is more of an Unseelie thing,” said Virgil, “Springs and Summers, it’s more- your magic, it’s _meant_to be gentle. Kind,”

Logan had turned the bright red of fresh carnations, and Virgil smiled.

“We’ll keep practicing,” said Virgil, “If you want to try with Patton and Roman, we won’t until you’re sure,”

After a long moment, Logan nodded.

“Again?” asked Virgil.

Another nod, firmer this time.

“Again,”

* * *

“Are you _sure?_”

“Sure as sugar,” said Patton, pecking Logan on the mouth.

“I do not like that we are essentially testing a highly dangerous and difficult to control magical drug on you,” said Logan flatly.

“Then don’t think of it like that,” said Patton, shrugging.

“How else am I to think of it?”

Patton considered.

It was a little bit embarrassing, but Logan had a much better reason to be nervous than Patton did.

“I… really like it,” said Patton, a little awkwardly, “And I- I’ve wanted to, with you for- oh honey, for _ages_,”

He cleared his throat. His face felt a little hot, and he focused on a spot just over Logan’s shoulder.

“So even if you _do_ overdo it a little,” said Patton, “It almost definitely won’t hurt me. I _like_ dancing. The human way and the fae way. I like the way it feels,”

Logan was crimson at this point, and Patton was surely not that far behind.

“So-”

Patton stood on tip-toe and kissed his cheek, just a little slower than a peck.

“-I would like it if you made me feel good, honey,” he said softly.

Logan shivered, and after a moment he nodded against Patton’s temple.

He took Patton’s hands and lifted them to loop around his own neck. He wrapped his arms around Patton’s ribs, until they were somewhere between a hug and a middle school dance position.

Logan pressed Patton’s side, and Patton followed the step.

_Warm_, was his first thought, and then _sweet_, and _soft_ and _oh that’s a lot – _Patton felt like he’d fallen into quicksand made of flower petals, and when he gasped a little in surprise it was like he could _taste_ the sunlight.

“Patton?”

Logan’s voice sounded like it was coming from down a long tunnel, and it took Patton a moment, but he did manage a little questioning hum in response.

“How do you feel?”

Patton hummed for long enough that Logan’s shoulders started to tense under Patton’s hands a little.

“I… good,” he said slowly, “Maybe… just a little less?”

It lightened, and Patton managed to blink his eyes open. He still felt dizzy, but a lot less _stupor_, and he when he smiled up at Logan, something relaxed in Logan’s face.

“Hi,” said Patton, smiling.

“Hello, starlight,” said Logan thickly.

“Love that,” said Patton, “When you call me starlight. Makes me feel special,”

Logan’s mouth quirked up and Patton beamed.

“You are special regardless of what I call you,” said Logan, soft and fond.

The haze of pleasant feelings almost… _pulsed_, like the thump of a heartbeat slowed down to a dull roar, thrumming with affection and a touch of amusement and so much _love-_

Patton’s knees gave out from under him.

Logan caught him, lowering them both down to the ground, and the second Patton’s hand had left Logan’s shoulders the fog had receded. Patton blinked, staring quizzically up at the ceiling and sort-of half wondering why he was on the floor.

Logan was talking, but a little too quick for Patton to pick up on what he was actually saying. He picked out every third word or so, and began to patch them together with the hazy, blissed-out memories bouncing untethered around in his head.

He pressed a finger to Logan’s bottom lip, and Logan cut off immediately.

“We… danced?” asked Patton.

Logan nodded, shamefaced.

“You collapsed,” he said guiltily.

Patton nodded, turning the slippery memories over. His knees were still shaking, just a little.

“Gimme a minute,”

“I can leave,”

Patton wrinkled his nose, confused.

“Well, I’ll just have to come find you in a few minutes, you might as well stay,”

Logan seemed baffled.

“Why would you need to find me?”

Patton got the feeling they were taking crossways, but he couldn’t imagine where they were getting mixed up.

“To try again?”

Logan stared.

“Did you misunderstand me when I told you that you collapsed?” he said flatly.

“I feel fine,” said Patton.

“I hurt you,”

“Oh, uh- you definitely didn’t,” said Patton, giggling nervously.

Logan continued to look confused.

Patton smiled, _that_ smile, the one that promised all sorts of fun and decidedly inappropriate things, and Logan’s face immediately burned red.

“I was definitely not _hurt_,” Patton said, “I’m a little fuzzy on the specifics, yeah, but- I have _no_ complaints, sweetie,”

Logan cleared his throat.

“Now,” said Patton, wrapping his arms Logan’s neck, “I would like it very much if you helped me up, and we tried that again,”

* * *

“Hey,”

“Hmm?” Logan replied, eyes focused firmly on the floor.

Roman touched his chin, lifting his head until Logan was looking Roman in the eye.

“It’s gonna be fine,” he said.

“Should I not be the one reassuring you here?”

“We can reassure each other, if you like,” said Roman, “Might make this go quicker,”

Logan worked his jaw back and forth.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he said quietly.

“You won’t,” said Roman, kissing him on the cheek and returning to his spot.

Virgil was across from Logan, with Patton and Roman on either side of them. None of them were touching.

Patton held out his hands first, and Virgil took it automatically. Roman took Virgil’s other hand, and then Roman and Patton were on either side of Logan, hands outstretched, waiting.

“You can change your mind,” said Roman.

Logan hesitated.

He couldn’t change his mind, actually.

Oh, he could certainly refuse to dance. None of them would press or be disappointed in him. The first dance on the wedding checklist would remain crossed off, and the wedding would still be beautiful besides.

But Logan _wanted_ it. Wanted it in a way that scared him, made him worry that the desire to hold them to him and spin to delirium _wasn’t_innocent, that it was some kind of buried fae instinct, leftover and impossible to scrub out. That it was dangerous, inherently. That he was gambling with their safety for no reason other than his own desires.

But as they looked at him, eyes in three different shades and exactly one shade of hope, Logan couldn’t possibly have said no.

He took Patton and Roman’s hands, completing the circle. Virgil nodded, waited for Logan to reciprocate – he counted to three under his breath, and they began to spin.

Logan felt Virgil’s magic, smooth and cold against his – where they met in the middle the dance became snowmelt creeks and rivers running under ice, crocus and snowdrops and heavy fog. Roman’s eyes went a little glazed, but when he smiled over at Logan, he didn’t seem drugged or frantic.

Patton had closed his eyes, but there was a small smile on his face.

They started more complicated movements, releasing hands to slide up shoulders and weave between each other, one curling into the center until they were crowded by the other three and then switching places, spinning alone with one hand held and one pressed to a shoulder or a neck, spinning all together or two at a time-

They hadn’t put on any music, afraid it would distract them, but there _was_ music – clean snow melting on your tongue and faint snowstorm wind, trickling water and cracking ice, sunlight shining through frost on trees and the smell of winter jasmine -

And just on the edges of it, fluttering and then seeping in, quiet and unobtrusive but turning a song to a symphony -

Bird song, bright as bells and clear as crystal. Campfire crackling, the pop-pop-pop of the wood and the scent of hickory.

All Logan’s senses were full of it, and when Roman turned and caught sight of him, Logan’s pulse picked up to a dull roar and all three of his partners gasped out loud at once.

Virgil dropped the hands he held.

None of them collapsed this time – they were all breathing heavily, and Virgil seemed slightly shaky, but the two humans were beaming – they’d immediately reached for each other.

“Wow,” said Patton.

“Give me a minute to remember how to English and I’ll elaborate on that,” said Roman breathlessly.

“How long were we dancing?” said Patton.

Logan turned the question over and blinked in confusion.

“I- approximately four minutes,”

Patton gave him a baffled look, and Roman looked utterly incredulous.

“Felt like at least half an hour,” he said, “If not a couple,”

“Yeah, uh-” Virgil cleared his throat, saluting awkwardly.

“That was me,” he said, “Sorry. Unseelie,”

“Babe, that is the opposite of a problem,” Roman said lowly, and Virgil turned scarlet.

“Okay!” said Patton, bringing his hands together, “We did it! And it went great! But-”

Logan winced, but Patton didn’t look disappointed or remotely upset.

“I still don’t know if we can dance at the wedding,” he said.

“Why’s that?” asked Virgil.

Patton smiled, the slightly edged and hungry one that never failed to make Logan’s internal organs do a variety of complicated motions.

“Because I don’t know about you,” said Patton pulling on his collar a little, “But I am… very, _very_ worked up, at the moment,”

Logan made a soft, involuntary noise, and Virgil’s gaze had zeroed in on Patton. Roman had taken on a grin that was decidedly predatory.

“Anybody wanna do something about that?” said Patton coyly

Roman didn’t hesitate a second, whisking Patton off the ground and carrying him to the bed, and Logan followed like they were tethered together.

The second he reached the bed Patton’s hands found their way under Logan’s shirt, and Logan decided that he really did enjoy dancing, quite a bit.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also [tulipscomeinalsortsofcolors](tulipscomeinallsortofcolors.tumblr.com) ove ron tumblr! ^.^


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